


Teen Dean Seems Mean

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breathplay, Destiel - Freeform, Hand Jobs, I'll add to this as I go, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Teen Dean, low key non con but it stop before anything happens, public sex-ish, sex sex sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6684022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just as I turn to walk away, he calls out after me. I stop in my tracks and my thoughts stop in theirs. No matter how much I tell myself I can do this, I’m still only a eighteen-year-old boy in a place I know nothing about, with people I care nothing for. The reality is, if my father wants to stop me, apologise and start to nurse our shattered relationship from the lifetime of damage,<br/>Then I’d let him.<br/>But of course, those perfect movie magic moments don’t happen in an airport car park on a bleak Tuesday afternoon.<br/>Instead, he says to me.<br/>“Look, Dean. If you’re not in that car in the next four minutes, I’m going to have to pay extra for parking”.<br/>And that’s when I run."</p><p>Um, hi. I've written a few fics in my day, but always written the entire thing before posting. Lately I've decided to be a tad adventurous and put this little blurb up before i have anything. When i find time betwixt school, work, my life (oh wait, shit, i don't have one) and sleep, I'll get this fucker written and published, so stay tuned kiddies, here comes some porn with feelings, based on actual experiences I've had.<br/>Enjoy<br/>(or don't, whatever)<br/>- Cameron</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Get in that car? With him?  
You’re either blind or joking.  
There’s no way in hell. Everything about him makes me sick.   
Not in an anxious, submissive way. Not the way that it twists in your stomach, lumps in your throat.   
I mean, he disgusts me to my core.   
Sure, some may see a dusty elegance in his aging features, but what’s actually there is a hairline receding faster than his regrets piling up. What’s actually there is a sheet of oily skin, covered in coloured ink, from the finest tattoo artist for under a hundred dollars. What’s actually there is a sad middle aged man, blaming every moment on a stupid mistake from a lifetime ago.   
But still, he gestures for me to step forward, he expects me to sit in the back seat, quiet and respectful.   
Thankful  
For Christs sake.   
A year or two ago, I would have just grinned and beared it. It seems that I’m not the same person I was.   
And thank god for that.   
I’m not having this, not for a second.   
I’m not indulging in the comfort of being told what to do.   
I’d rather remain alone, I’d rather walk around this industrial wasteland, wandering and aching. Familiarity offers the security of times gone by, but at what cost?   
Just as I turn to walk away, he calls out after me. I stop in my tracks and my thoughts stop in theirs. No matter how much I tell myself I can do this, I’m still only an eighteen-year-old boy in a place I know nothing about, with people I care nothing for. The reality is, if my father wants to stop me, apologise and start to nurse our shattered relationship from the lifetime of damage,   
Then I’d let him.   
But of course, those perfect movie magic moments don’t happen in an airport car park on a bleak Tuesday afternoon.   
Instead, he says to me.   
“Look, Dean. If you’re not in that car in the next four minutes, I’m going to have to pay extra for parking”.   
And that’s when I run.   
I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I’m entirely convinced he won’t come after me, he’ll leave me here while he tracks down a couple jobs, and then find me in a week if I haven’t called him.   
He won’t find me this time.   
Uncle Bobby only lives an hour’s train ride from here, I’ll crash there and he won’t tell da- John, he won’t tell John where I am.   
Now, at least there’s an airport shuttle to the train station, but I have less than a dollar to my name and look like trouble.   
Once I get to the station, I find (to my immense delight) that the next train doesn’t come until tomorrow morning. I’ve camped out in worse places, but a train station bathroom has to be a new low. As it starts to get dark I feel less and less safe, immensely unprotected in the unlocked space. I walk into a stall, sit on the seat, and breathe a sigh of relief when I lock the door. It’s not long before the jet lagged, upset, anxious part of my mind tries to lull me off into sleep. Just as I stop fighting it, I hear voices and footsteps. Distant, but close enough to be outside. My heart beats faster and faster as I hear them coming closer. I tuck my feet up so they can’t be seen from outside the stall, and quiet my breathing. Two male voices enter the bathroom, probably attached to bodies.   
“Isn’t this kinda gross?” An intoxicatingly deep voice says.  
“Look, my car’s in the shop, your parents are home, where else can we go?” Another replies.  
They must have reached some sort of agreement, because after a sigh, there’s silence.   
Until the kissing noises start. Heavy breathing, soft moans, the clink of uncoordinated teeth.   
Great, I’m stuck in a bathroom listening to two dudes having a fuck. Two dudes having a thoroughly intense fuck by the sound of it. I lean over so I can see between the crack of the door, and lay my eyes on quite a sight.   
One beautiful boy was being pushed up against a wall, clothes half torn off and hair messy from being tugged. The other was much taller and stronger, with rough features, and dug his nails into the first boy. The second one pulled away and the first one looks up at him, lip bleeding from being kissed too hard.   
“Get on your knees, slut” The larger one says.   
The daintier one looks uncomfortable, and hesitates.   
“Did little baby Castiel mishear? I said suck, bitch”.  
“Jarrod, i- aren’t we going a little fast? I mean, I’ve never really done this much with anyone and I don’t want my first time to be in a public bathroom” He mutters as he fiddles with his untucked shirt hem.  
“You’ll do what I tell you” Jarrod says, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, pushing him down.   
I couldn’t just hide here and watch this poor boy get forced into something that made him uncomfortable, I have to act. I open the stall and step out loudly.   
“Hey, fucking asshole, no means no” I yell with a little too much confidence.   
Jarrod turns around to face me and Castiel mouths “Thank you” from behind his shoulder.   
“I’m going to give you three seconds to leave” Jarrod says as he raises his fists menacingly.   
“That’s generous,” I say as I pull my hand out of my pocket. “I’m only going to give you two” I flick the blade of my knife up and see the fear in his eyes. I take a step forward and make to force him out the door.   
He steps back and says “Fine then, you can have the faggot, he’s not worth much” Jarrod turns to leave, and says to Castiel on his way out “I’ll deal with you on Monday”.   
Castiel ignores him, but the second he’s out of the door, he slides down the wall and puts his head in his hands.   
“Are you alright?” I ask genuinely.   
He just shakes his head as I stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to comfort him or not.   
“My names Dean” I state stupidly.   
He raises his head and takes me in, staring down my grubby appearance, and still poised flick-knife.   
“Call me Cas”.


	2. Filler chapter with some banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY CUNTS ITS BEEN LITERALLY FIVE MONTHS BUT I REMEMBERED THAT THIS EXISTED SO I'M COMING BACK TO IT NOW THAT I'M REALLY BUSY WITH EVERY ASPECT OF MY LIFE AND SORRY THAT I'VE LEFT YOU ALL HANGING FOR SO LONG I'LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU GUYS WITH SOME SMUT REALLY SOON BUT FOR NOW ITS TIME TO DEVELOP EMOTIONAL CONNECTIONS FUCK YEAH ALSO SORRY I'M SCREAMING AND IF THIS GETS ANY READS I'LL BE SO THANKFUL THAT YOU HAVEN'T ALL MOVED ON SINCE CHAPTER 1 ALSO THIS IS MEANT TO BE CLICHE OKAY ILY BYE

I slide down the wall next to Cas, his breaths still wracking his body.   
“Is there anything I can do to help you” I ask, feeling useless.   
“You’ve already done more than I could thank you for”.   
I trace over the faded grout between the cool tiles we’re resting one while a million different things to say run through my mind. Just as I’m about to ask him something stupid, like his age or his interests or his favourite band he cuts in a little too smoothly.  
“So, Dean, not to be blunt, but what exactly are you doing in a train station bathroom at midnight?”. His smile is deadly, and the voice as rough as gravel seems foreign against his baby blue eyes.  
I decide on a tad of witty banter to set the mood, and smirk as I say “Well, I didn’t come here to have sex, unlike some of us.” I look down to his puffed lips and back up to his eyes again “ I mean, unless you’re offering?”  
He lets out a breathy laugh as “Very funny, runaway boy” slips out a little too casually.   
“What makes you think I ran away?”   
“What makes you think the stained T-shirt, shadow of stubble and flick-knife don’t scream troubled teen? Let me guess, you’re ‘between places’, trying to ‘figure yourself out’ because mommy doesn’t understand you?” Castiel starts to get a bit too comfortable as a smile creeps onto his face and slides off of mine.   
“My mother died when I was four, but thanks for the presumption, pathetic virgin” I stand up, ready to leave this asshole in the cold, unsafe bathroom with no way home, until I’m halfway out the door and hear a soft voice.   
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know”  
“It’s fine, I wouldn’t expect you to” which is where I should leave, where I would leave if anyone else had said what he said. Yet I linger at the door, trying to make a decision. He makes it for me as he calls out something in a voice so soft, he might have just thought the sentence instead.   
“Please don’t leave”  
And after that, how could i?   
I offer him a hand up and some fresh air as we walk out of the bathroom together and into a night a little less cold and a little more forgiving than it was before we met.


End file.
